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My grandmother had a tiny efficiency kitchen in the house she and my grandfather moved into for retirement. But, oh! the cooking she produced there! She made all-butter cookies in so many varieties! She had 13 grandchildren, and each of us had a different favorite cookie. Before the holidays, she would be busy baking and putting at least 13 different varieties of cookies into decorative tins, and tucking them away in nooks and crannies in that tiny kitchen. When we arrived for a family gathering, all of the grandchildren would ransack that tiny kitchen to find where she had hidden the tin with our favorite! While she was doing that, my grandfather ground pounds and pounds of pork liver by hand, three times, to make leverposteij from a recipe my grandmother talked a deli into giving her before she left Copenhagen at 17, to come to the United States. Leverposteij on pumpernickel with sweet pickles, roulepulse sandwiches and homemade butter cookies! Heavenly eating for the holidays! (Kim)
I grew up in a family restaurant. My grandfather owned the Colonial restaurant in New Jersey from the 50’s into the 70’s. It was a classic diner with the counter seating and those vinyl booths. True story – my mom and dad met at his restaurant. My mom was a waitress and dad was a very frequent customer. I guess you could say I have restaurant blood. I have fond memories of being in the kitchen with my grandfather watching him make the orders. He always let me help in the kitchen and my job was to use the super big can opener to open the cans (with supervision of course). I needed a step stool to turn the hand cranked can opener. He always told me the food tasted so good because I opened the cans for him. He used to drill me on the restaurant lingo. I still have the flat paddle ice cream scoop they used for the dessert sundaes. Good memories! (Rita)
My earliest memory of food is when I was standing at the stove with my mom, where she allowed me to stir the frozen corn. I needed a chair. I must have been 4 years old. The corn was warming in a square Corning Ware pan, which matched the square of the frozen corn from a box. Prodding with a fork, I watched each little kernel loosen from the sides and drop into the edges of the hot water and melting butter. (Cynthia)
My absolute favorite food memories are from my childhood when we would visit our relatives in “the country.” We would always have fresh, farm-raised food with no processing or strange additives. Mmmm, good times — good food! (Norma)
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